Best Laid Plans
by Rat-chan
Summary: Harry and Perry have been romantically involved for over a month now. Harry is ready for the next step in their relationship, but for some reason Perry is holding back. Perry/Harry slash. Rating for sexual content and language.


So, this is another story that has been sitting around on my journal for a while. I've finally gotten around to toning it down for this site. I mean, it was never _that _explicit, but even with slight editing it might still be pushing the rating here...

Anyway,  
**Disclaimer**: Well, I tried to stick a "Property of Rat" label on Harry, but Perry stopped me. So, nobody in this story belongs to me, and the only profit I get is the love of my readers.  
**Summary**: For this prompt:  
_So Harry and Perry are a couple now. Harry's thrilled, but Perry...well, he's beyond thrilled. He's never actually been 'in love' and doesn't want to move things too quickly with Harry. So, being anal/organized Perry, he plans their first time carefully and elaborately. It's driving him crazy, but it's really driving Harry crazy-and Harry, bless his little heart, is doing everything in his power to speed things up.  
But Perry won't have it. HE'LL decide when Harry's ready, damn it!_

* * *

Harry flushed the toilet and then went to the sink to wash off the white residue that had seeped through the toilet paper to soil his hands. _Damn it!_ He was not supposed to have to do this now!

_Perry is my boyfriend._

God, that sounded so gay -- which it was, of course. They were, after all, two men in a romantic relationship.

_Ugh_... "Romantic relationship" sounded even gayer...

Still, the thought "Perry is my boyfriend" did not make Harry feel gay or silly or stupid. It was like a sip of good tequila. It was smooth and tangy sweet and it made him feel warm and floaty.

"Fuck, I _am _gay," Harry groaned to his reflection before sitting down, fully clothed (well, in T-shirt and boxers), on the open toilet. _But not fucking gay enough_, he thought petulantly as his eyes caught a bit of ejaculate that had leaked onto the floor. _Not gay _fucking_ at all._

"Gaaaaah!" Harry vented some frustration in a soft, wordless shout. "Fucking gay eunuch son of a bitch impotent prick..." He continued his stream of invective, his head slumped down onto his hands. He had no idea what he was actually saying, but it made him feel less frustrated, if not better.

_A month and a half._ That was how long he and Perry had been an official (quietly official) couple. And they still had not progressed beyond making out.

For the first month or so, that had not been a problem. In fact, Harry had been relieved that Perry was taking it slow. In the beginning, the thought of _**Gay Sex**_ would cause Harry moments of panic. It was unnatural and probably very painful and how on Earth could it feel good, having something shoved up one's ass?

But time had reduced that panic. Harmony had given him a magazine with, ahem, detailed information. He had been mortified when she gave it to him -- with a pink bow on it -- but he had also been grateful (he never could have gotten that for himself). Early readings had confused and frightened him -- he had had to read it at sunset because it was too embarrassing to read in the daytime and it was too real if he read it at night. However, over the weeks it had changed from horror story to positive Spank Bank material (if he threw in Perry's image).

Of course, it was not just time that had caused the change. Perry had played a big part in that, too. Or rather, Perry's tongue.

"God," Harry moaned, _Perry's tongue_. When they made out -- which was almost every night now for the last three weeks -- Perry's tongue was like a separate entity. It was like a living thing designed purely for sex.

How was Harry supposed to be afraid of sex, when all he could think about was how fucking badly he wanted that tongue all over his body? On his earlobes, around his nipples, over his navel, and lower, lower...

_Fuck_, his rodney was coming back. Harry stood up and went back to the sink to splash cold water on his red face. He was not going to fucking do it solo again!

"Graaaww!" Harry turned around and slumped down on the floor in front of the sink. He made a few more inarticulate growly yells, but they were not easing his returning frustration. Not when the source of his frustration was probably sitting on the sofa, watching a cooking or interior design show, or some other damned gay programming, but in any case not fucking in here with Harry, well, _fucking_.

Harry stood up again and looked in the mirror. He took his shirt off and surveyed his reflection. Was he not sexy enough? Was that the problem? Lord knew, he had been trying everything in the last week to get Perry in the mood. He had tried the wet T-shirt thing while they were washing dishes. He had "accidentally" lost his towel coming out of the shower. He had "dozed off" on the couch, sprawled in what he had hoped was a provocative position, clad in nothing but his boxers.

Tonight, he had gotten balls enough to get up on Perry's lap while they were kissing. "Fucking blue balls..." _OK, well not quite_, he thought, again eying the spunk on the floor. But the result had not been what he had wanted.

No, once more Perry had slowly pulled away, smiling softly in a way he only ever did in those moments -- in a way that made Harry's stomach and knees go all fluttery. Once more, Harry had been left with a "good night, Chief," a raging hard-on, and nothing for it except his own two hands.

_What the fuck am I going to do about this?_

* * *

Perry perched on the edge of his bed, trying not to think about what his boyfriend was doing in the bathroom at that same moment.

_Boyfriend. Harry Lockhart._

Two months ago, he would never have thought it possible. Imagined it, maybe, in unguarded moments, but never dreamed it could be true. Even now, he still had to pinch himself to reassure himself that it was not, in fact, a dream.

But thank God it was real. One night, about a month and a half ago, Perry, rather drunk, had gone to bid his also tipsy housemate goodnight. Not properly thinking, he had moved to kiss Harry on the cheek. Harry, however, had somewhat sleepily turned his mouth into the kiss. Their lips had met only briefly before Perry had pulled back, startled.

He had been more surprised, though, by the look on Harry's face. The smaller man had been smiling softly up at his boss. Not spitting. Not cringing. Just gazing contentedly at Perry.

Perry had not been able to resist moving in slowly for another kiss, which Harry had accepted and even returned. Then, Perry had pulled back slowly and watched Harry, whose eyes were closed, lazily lick his own lips.

_That moment_. It had not been like a thunderbolt from the blue. Or a heavenly choir singing fucking Hallelujah. It had merely been a small, warm, wonderful thought rising slowly to the surface of his mind as if it were the most natural thing in the world: _I love Harry Lockhart_.

The next day, a perfectly sober Harry had agreed, sweetly nervous, to be Perry's boyfriend.

It was wonderful. Maybe it was a fucking gay, trite sentiment, but Perry had never felt this way before.

And it was fucking scary for that exact same reason. He had no fucking clue how to be in a romantic relationship. And no fucking idea how he was going to move on if he fucked it all up.

Those first few days, he had felt Harry tense up when he embraced him – had seen the fleeting panic in those dark eyes when he deepened a kiss. _I have to take this slow_, he had realized, _or I'll scare him off_.

So, Perry had made a plan of escalating intimacy. _Two months_, he had decided. That was enough time to move gradually into sex. Enough time for Harry to be ready.

It was getting harder, though, to take it slow. Harry would now tremble in his arms for entirely different reasons. He would get this glazed over look in his eyes, a soft flush would spread down his cheeks and neck to disappear under his collar. And Perry would _feel_ Harry's excitement pressed firmly against a thigh, or, today, his abdomen.

At that very moment, Harry was jerking off to the thought of Perry. How would Harry look? His eyes would probably be closed. A rosy flush would cover not just his face, but his entire body. His hand would move slowly, at first, but then, he would start to moan. He would bite his lip to keep the sound in, but it would slowly leak out again as he began stroking faster, his hips rocking, close to the edge. And then—

_Fuck_. An erection for Perry was not part of the plan tonight. What if Harry walked in on him masturbating and got freaked out? That would spoil the whole plan!

Perry stood up abruptly, trying to ignore his half-hard dick. Harry had been in the bathroom an awfully long time.

"Chief?" Perry knocked on the door of the bathroom. "You OK in there?"

"No."

"What?"

"I said 'no.' I'm fucking not OK!" The door was opened suddenly and Perry was face to face with an angry boyfriend.

_Shit, no_. "Harry? What's the problem?" He looked past Harry into the bathroom and noticed the small stain on the floor. "Hey, you got spunk on the floor!"

"_That_ is the fucking problem!" Harry exploded. "_You_ are supposed to be taking care of that now! Are you my fucking boyfriend or not!?"

Perry could only look back at his partner. _What am I supposed to say?_

"Well? Is it me?" Harry demanded. Then, Perry was further shocked by Harry's hand moving to his groin. Perry had not softened at all (Harry was half-naked in front of him, sexily flushed with anger!). "OK, it's not me." Harry seemed to calm a bit – even half-smiled. "So what is it? Why aren't we fucking?"

"I… we… You're not ready, yet, Chief."

"…the fuck?" The anger was back full force. "I'm not _ready_!?" Harry pulled Perry's hand to his own crotch and Perry could feel an answering hardness there. "You feel _that_ and tell me I'm not fucking ready!"

"You're not! The timing is not right yet. I have a pla--"

"Fuck timing! You want to sing Some Enchanted Fucking Evening, fine! We can do that all you want when the time is 'right.'" Harry began pushing the larger man down the hall, towards his bedroom. "But right here." They had reached Perry's bed. "Right now." Perry was pushed down. "I am so fucking ready to have sex I could, I could—"

What Harry could became apparent the next moment when he mounted Perry's lap and fastened his mouth on his partner's. His tongue moved in Perry's mouth with more enthusiasm than finesse. But that did not fucking matter at all when Harry ground his erection up against Perry's.

_Where the fuck did he learn to do that?_ Perry had that one last coherent thought before Harry repeated that action. _Fuck it!_ All rational thought and careful plans were burned away. Perry wrapped his arms around his lover and set about showing him how a tongue was meant to be used.

Perry pulled away from the kiss and traced Harry's jawbone with his tongue. Then, he wrapped it around a soft earlobe before pulling it gently into his mouth and sucking.

Harry moaned and gripped Perry's shirt, bringing their erections even closer together. "More…" he demanded.

Perry obliged, using his tongue and hands to bring Harry closer and closer to the edge. "We're in this together, Chief," Perry whispered into his lover's ear. He gently encouraged Harry to reciprocate. The other man was hesitant and uncertain at first, but as he gained confidence, it was Perry's turn to moan.

_God, I can't believe I'm so close already_. But he was – he could feel it. And if Harry's closed eyes and thrown back head were any indication, so was he.

"Perry!" Harry cried, his voice gone nasal.

Perry sank his teeth lightly into the soft skin of Harry's neck as both men found their release.

Harry collapsed forward onto Perry and both men tumbled down onto the bed, Harry on top. They lay there, panting, for several moments.

When Perry could open his eyes, he looked immediately at Harry. The other man was smiling and, with no apparent awareness of the action, stroking the spot where Perry could still make out the impression of his own teeth.

"That was… messy," Harry said, looking at both of their now less than immaculate chests.

Perry laughed. "Is that all?"

Harry slid up Perry's body slightly to give his lover a small kiss. "When do we do it again?"

"Tomorrow night, Chief," Perry promised. "But we're doing Some Enchanted Fucking Evening! Got that?"

"Yessir!" Harry gave a mock salute before Perry pulled him down for a real kiss.

* * *

I'm currently writing a sequel to this. If you all want to read it here, I'll also publish a toned-down version of that story (once again, not so significantly altered since smut is not my strong suit).


End file.
